


My Heart Will Always Draw You in Like Gravity

by oneforyourfire



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Fingerfucking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 04:27:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18242381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneforyourfire/pseuds/oneforyourfire
Summary: But he’s proud and he’s stubborn, too. Well-fucked, but hard still—denied. And always too, too, too proud tobegfor it—at least for the moment.





	My Heart Will Always Draw You in Like Gravity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dadsinc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dadsinc/gifts).



> this is very late, but i love you lots!!!!

Kyungsoo had come to him post-filming haggard, bruised around the eyes, the wrists, pale and disheveled from lack of sleep, he’d come with a 24 pack of toilet paper, a tiny succulent, banchan made with love for him _special_ —housewarming gifts, he’d insisted, special for his hyung to remind him of what he’s left behind. 

He’d come to him bespectacled and wind-blown and sleepy-voiced, too. Handsome in that way always makes Minseok’s heart _ache_. 

He’d fallen into his bed like that, too. Overworked and pale and bruised and bespectacled and wind-blown and sleepy-voiced and handsome, but bruised-lip and flushed and kiss-mused, too. Enthusiastic in a way that makes Minseok’s heart and cock ache, urging, urging, urging Minseok to fuck him hard, fuck him deep, fuck him so good that he’s sore for days. Urging him to come inside him, too, mark him up as much as he wanted, as they both wanted. 

But he’s proud and he’s stubborn, too. Well-fucked, but hard still—denied. Too, too, too proud to _beg_ for it—at least for the moment And his cock is an angry, aching red against his belly. Wet, too. Pulsing with every ragged breath he takes, too. 

Minseok massages into the tension of his thighs, skips the pearlescent slickness dotting his stomach. He mouths at his shoulder. Bites into his throat, reminds him in a rough, ragged rasp of a whisper that Kyungsoo only has to ask, hyung will always, always, always provide, Kyungsooyah—

And oh, the imperious tilt of his eyelashes, the sharp cut of his jawline, the hard, hard, hardness to him, the heady thrill of watching it crack, splinter, break beneath his fingers, his tongue, around his cock, even if Kyungsoo is still fighting it. Clenching his teeth around the moan trying to leak from his mouth, quelling his shudder as Minseok kneads into the quiver of his flushed thighs, skims purposefully, maddeningly close to his cock. Then slightly lower as Kyungsoo shakes steadily, steadily, steadily apart. 

But he is fighting it still, proud and stubborn still, quaking as he twists to gasp into his own shoulder. His eyes are dark, wet, and he grits his teeth past another low, helpless moan, but the fine fine tremor in his thighs belies his insistence that he still isn’t—still doesn’t— _hyung_. 

And oh, the heady, heady thrill when he finally melts, finally cracks, splinters, breaks. 

“Fingers,” he gasps, a plea, a request laced with the most heady desperation. 

Dizzy with want, Minseok pushes Kyungsoo’s flushed, trembling legs apart, pushes them to his heaving chest, loves the flash of helpless desire behind his crooked glasses, the quiver of his kiss-bitten lips, loves the way his come dribbles out of Kyungsoo’s spent body and the way he still clenches uselessly to keep it inside. Loves the way that Kyungsoo’s face pinches with pleasure, loves the way the pretty flush bleeds from his throat, to his chest, his belly, his thighs as he shakes helplessly through the deliberate stroke of Minseok’s touch. 

Sliding down his side, dropping mindless, meandering kisses along his shoulders, his chest, Minseok switches hands, fists Kyungsoo with his non-dominant hand, eases his way inside Kyungsoo with the other. He’s loose already, wet and quivering to the touch, and Minseok pushes into him with a twisting, curling thrust. 

He’s red and abused, messy, sloppy, slick already from come and lube and being fucked hard and deep and fast, just how they both like. 

And Minseok eases into it how they both like, too. Slow, slow, deep, cruel. And Kyungsoo’s sob is a shuddery, gorgeous thing. He’s loudest, most his like this, special like this just for him, trembling across his sheets. 

And Minseok wants to wring him dry, wants to fuck him broken and ruined and pretty and then again and again and again, just like that, just for hyung. 

He fucks him with his fingers instead, prods hard, intentional, holds it for three, four, five cruel, cruel beats, and Kyungsoo’s lips part around a silent whimper, body taut taut taut with tension. He gropes downwards, paws helplessly at Minseok’s wrist but urging it even _deeper_ , even _harder_ , his body thrashing to and away from the pressure. 

And _fuck_ , if Minseok could come again, he would. Fuck his come into him, stuff him full to bursting because Kyungsoo, he wants it and he deserves it, deserves to be drenched and dripping, deserves to be _ruined_. 

Minseok tightens the stroke of his fist instead, increases the pace of his fingers, and Kyungsoo twists, tugs at his own nipples then at his hair, then at the wrinkled pillowcase at his side, hyung, hyung, hyung. 

Asking, asking, _needing_.

Minseok pushes hard—hard enough to have Kyungsoo thrashing, begging, begging, begging—just like that, even as his arms scramble, legs twist, body tilts helplessly away from the too-much, too-much, too-much of it. 

Minseok wrenches his legs open, pushes that much harder, and Kyungsoo tears at Minseok’s hair, along his shoulders, his back. 

His ass squeezes vice-tight, pulses, pulses, pulses, and Minseok groans past the pressure, the recollection. He always clenches like he needs it, like he can't ever get enough. Always wrings Minseok fucking dry and shaking.

He’s so close, close, close, Minseok knows from how his stomach bunches, how his chest heaves, how his voice breaks on the rasp of his _hyung_. 

Minseok curls and fucks and fucks and fucks, slides his other fist over Kyungsoo’s cock, twisting at the tip, using the precome there to slicken his stroke, teasing, tightening, twisting, purposefully tortuous.

 _Break, break, break, Kyungsooyah. For your hyung, Kyungsooyah._

“Show hyung much you want it,” he urges, stilling his hand, tightening his fist. 

And Kyungsoo moans as he pushes into the ring of his fingers, inelegant and frantic and beautiful in his desperation to get off. Minseok twists rough, fast, tight, tight, tight to help him along. Repeats how much he wants it into his hip bone. Spares a fleeting kiss to the engorged, quivering tip of his cock, and Kyungsoo is unraveling. 

Minseok loves the tremor of Kyungsoo's spread thighs, the quiver of his heaving throat, the gravel of his _hyung_ , the selfish, needy, needy ripple of delicate muscles against his questing fingertips, loves it and needs it more, Kyungsooyah. Give him more, Kyungsooyah. Come on. Be good for hyung. Let me. Let me. Let me. 

He fucks his fingers inside crueler, faster, deeper, more brutal, pounding, pounding, pounding, and Kyungsoo quakes as he takes it and takes it and takes it, tossing his head back, biting his lip red and quivering. He quakes and quakes and quakes, scrambles out for him. He claws at Minseok’s shoulder, his arm as he arches violently, panting, panting, panting, sobbing, cracking, splintering, breaking, breaking, breaking. 

" _Hyung_."

"Hyung's here, Kyungsoo. Come for hyung, Kyungsoo. I want it. I want it. I want it.” 

His knees knock, body trembles, trembles, trembles, jaw slackens around a long, loud, loud, loud, broken _hyung_. And just like that, just for him, he shatters apart in a panting, quivering mess. It’s explosive and violent and gorgeous, and it last and last and lasts. 

Minseok fucks him through it and then slightly past it, prodding until oversensitivity has him batting at Minseok’s hand, legs trembling closed. 

And Minseok disengages with a slick slick, sloppy pop, eases him down with soft kisses, softer words, pressed soft and lingering on his hips, thighs as he watches his come dribble out of Kyungsoo’s body. 

_So pretty, so good. My favorite dongsaeng. Love fucking you the best. Love watching you come. Love you, Kyungsooyah_.

And Kyungsoo’s hand bumbles to curl around his shoulder, misses and kneads into his throat instead. 

Behind his fogged glasses, his eyes are so gratifyingly glassy and too-bright, eyelashes thick and heavy, lips ruddy and bruised, throat heaving around another weak, beautiful, beautiful _hyung_. Then a weaker, softer, softer _please_. 

And he’s beautiful, and it’s impossible not to want him. 

Minseok slides clumsily up his body, tastes the receding flush of his skin, the way the urgency bleeds from his labored breathing, the way the tension drains from his body, the way he melts pretty and perfect into his bed. 

Minseok pets at the sweat beading on his brow, the flush on his cheeks, his throat, his chest, the concave, quivering dip of his belly, circles the come speckling there, watches him, loves him, wants him again and again and again, will never, never, never have his fill of him. 

And when Kyungsoo gropes out for him again, tugs him forward, warm and soft and quivering still to the touch, Minseok kisses along his cheek, his nose, Minseok kisses him back, cradles him even closer. 

And Kyungsoo stays still and steady for him like that, close like that, overworked and pale and bruised and bespectacled and fucked out and sleepy-voiced and handsome and disheveled and achingly, achingly his.

**Author's Note:**

> ksoo gets subby for tiny dom line only  
> this isn't up for debate


End file.
